


Unclench

by Trobadora



Category: Doctor Who, Torchwood
Genre: Children of Earth, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-04
Updated: 2010-05-04
Packaged: 2017-10-09 07:28:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/84528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trobadora/pseuds/Trobadora
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A <i>Children of Earth</i> coda, set before Jack's last good-bye scene.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unclench

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [Winter Companions Challenge ](http://community.livejournal.com/wintercompanion/106328.html).

He's shivering. It's a mild night, positively balmy, but he's shivering. Looking at the remains of the Hub clenches his stomach, and no, he can't do this. It's almost worse, seeing the Plass nearly cleaned up again, the world ready to close the gaping wound, ready to move on.

He isn't.

He needs to get out of here, out of Cardiff, out of this country, _off this planet_ \- the sooner the better.

But he stands, hands burrowed deep in his coat pockets, his fingers clenched into fists. Stands watching dust and pollen swirl through the air, watching a stray newspaper page drift on the breeze coming over from the bay.

He stands for a long time, quietly, paying his respects.

A familiar swirl of a brown coat in the corner of his eye - then there's a silent presence at his back. He tenses, but doesn't turn. He has nothing left, not questions, not accusations, not even fury.

Not now.

The presence remains, just behind him, almost touching, steady and warm. No words are spoken; but after a while, he can feel his spine loosen, his shoulders settle. The deep, gnawing ache in his stomach melts a little.

Just a little.

Still he doesn't outwardly acknowledge his companion.

After a while, a hand slides into his coat pocket next to his, presses something into his fingers. Cool metal, the temperature of Gallifreyan skin.

The hand disappears again; the presence at his back stills. Still no one speaks.

Jack clenches his fist around the small TARDIS key, feels it biting into his skin.

After a while the presence disappears, silently as it came.

No words were spoken.

None were needed.


End file.
